The Capital of Scandinavia

I arrived in Stockholm midday. I made it to my hostel after a great deal of frustration trying to find a map- the directions my hostel gave me were the street address and "A ten-minute walk past the city hall". Doesn't help much when you don't even know what the city hall looks like, and especially without a map. In the central station they had computers for information, and when I clicked on the Tourist Information Office, it just said that it's "located next to Central Station." COME ON Stockholm. Not a single information booth in the station, I wandered outside both way around the giant building until I finally found the office down the road a good 300 yards- not exactly next to the building. Not a good start to Stockholm, but it would get a whole lot better.

When I finally made it to my hostel I was ready to explore. I dropped my stuff off in my room and headed out to acquaint myself to the city. I stopped by the hostel's receptionist on my way out to ask about renting bikes, and she informed me, and then sold me on the system they have in Stockholm, where you can pick up a bike from any of the 50 or so stations around the city and drop it off at any one of them later, as long as its within three hours. I bought a swipe card for it, and headed out.

Well she failed to mention the tires on the bike are the size of a car's steering wheel, and I felt like an idiot peddling my heart out as the locals were cruising by me leisurely with their regular-sized tired bikes. That being said, though I may complain more about them (I was so sore the last day from the awkward muscles those mini-bikes made me overwork), those damn bikes did help me get from A to B much faster than walking would have, and for that I commend Stockholm on their shitty, I mean City, bike system.

I had recently finished a book by Bill Bryson, entitled Neither Here Nor There, in which the author travelled Europe, retracing the steps that he took thirty years earlier as a young adult. Though I had the intentions to finish the book and trade it for another book at a hostel or with another traveler, I later decided it would be fun to hold on to it and reread chapters when I was in the city that he was writing about. The point of me telling you this, is that Stockholm was the first city I practiced this idea, and decided to try to follow Bryson's steps in his first day in the city. The night before I had skimmed the chapter and read that he first went towards the Old Town, where the Royal Palace is and a ton of Swedish history.

Wouldn't you know it, I got a bit lost and headed across a bridge down to Sodermalm (Stockholm is really a dozen or so small islands strung together by bridges), drawn towards it by the bright lights and flashy advertising campaigns in the distance across the water, a seemingly polar opposite part of the city than the part I had just been in. I found myself on the main shopping/tourist street that cuts through Sodermalm, Götgatan, and walked halfway down the road, or rather up because of how hilly Stockholm is. (Another reason those mini bikes sucked was all of the hills, try peddling up a cobblestoned street in a child's -sized bike up a 30-40 degree incline, ohhh and it was raining. Yeah, it started to rain, and though my spirits were still up, I decided to find a cozy cafe and regain my energy during the rain.)

This is another idea that I have borrowed from Bryson, as he often would take coffee breaks and refuel after a long day of touring a city. I have developed a system for café searches - I walk along busy streets and look for the first place that sells coffee with a seat open next to a big window that I can people watch as they continue on with their day and I rest to my coffee and thoughts. That is how I came across a very nice place called Coffee Dacapo. The lady working there greeted me politely and asked what I would like. I just wanted a coffee and let her know that, but when she caught me eyeing some pastries and cakes when she turned back around, she caught me off my guard when she asked again if I wanted anything else. I decided to go with it, so I asked her what her favorite thing was that they served, and without a seconds' hesitation she replied Carrot Cake!

So, 10 dollars later I'm sitting by my large window sipping on a surprisingly delicious cup of coffee and starting to bite into one of the best pieces of carrot cake I've ever had, and I take out my city map to get my bearings and rethink my day. Once I realized where I went wrong, I took out Bryson's book to finish the chapter on Stockholm. Well wouldn't you know it, after he walked through the old town, he then crossed the bridge I had just gone over, and stopped for coffee on the very street I was on! This made me feel less of an idiot, which is always a good feeling, and after an hour or so of reading/relaxing, I headed on my way back towards the old town, to see if Bryson's description of an area with "a knocked-about charm...but surprising lacking any air of prosperity" was accurate.

Walking through the narrow, cobblestone roads/walkways through the old town, I instantly fell in love with Stockholm and its oddly Central European feel. The old town currently did have a kind of "knock-about charm", and it had done its trick- I was falling for Stockholm right off the bat. For the first time in my travels, I had arrived in a city with that oddly true European feel I had been looking for, even dreamt of. I wandered around the area for only twenty minutes when I stumbled upon the Royal Palace, a massive 600-room building guarded by the most "feeble-looking guards" (Bryson's description again, and this time he was so right). I had to take a picture of one of them, marching down 100 yards then back to is post in his tight white Donald Duck pants and white shower-cap hat past a yellow Volkswagen Beatle. Just too funny.

After walking around a bit more, the night suddenly fell upon me and I made my way to a small kiosk I had walked past earlier just over the bridge on Sodermalm. I ended up making friends with the kid working in the kiosk because he directed me to three ATMs (first two were out of order) and because he was amazed I followed my word and kept returning, he gave me a heaping pile of fried herring and every kind of vegetables they had, with a free coke "on the house". People are nice. After I headed back to the hostel to rest up for my only full day in the city.

The next morning, I headed towards the main shopping street called Drottninggatan, where I would have lunch on a side street and then realize there was no point in me being there because I never buy anything, and took out the book again. I would again do as Bryson did on his second day in the city, and head towards Djurgarden, an East-side island which is really just a city park full of grassy knolls and random yet interesting diversions (including a museum of Nordic life, an amusement park, an open-air museum called Skansen, the Italian embassy - random, and much more). Along the way, I biked along Strandvägen, a grand residential Boulevard with a boat-lined harbor on one side and huge, probably multi-million dollar apartments on the other. When I reached Djurgarden, I was blown away at its size. I biked around the island for a few hours, stopping to admire some Prince's old residence and gardens, now kept up for the publics' enjoyment, and found a nice area to sit in the sun and read. In the late afternoon I realized I still hadn't found Skansen, the huge open-air museum that Bryson had mentioned he had enjoyed a coffee break in. I was feeling up for some coffee, so I made my way there.

The park is actually the largest open-air museum in the world, where for over a century they have collected homes and other buildings from around Sweden and rebuilt them in their exact specifications as they had been, some more than 500 years old. During the main hours of operation, many of the buildings have actors in full costume of the buildings time/theme, explaining to visitors what life was like back when that building was in order. Im glad I sucked up the extra 50 kroner to enter before 5pm when most buildings closed down, because I found my way to an old spice shop and talked to the attendant, then an old merchant's home, before finally coming to an amazing coffee shop from the 18th century, moved from downtown Stockholm to this park. The size no bigger than a college dorm room, a smell of freshly made cinnamon rolls enticed my senses and drew me towards the little gem. I sat there until it closed by a small table with a window view, enjoying my cinnamon roll and three cups of coffee, then walked around the park for another three hours. If you ever go to Stockholm, check out Skansen. Its a must.

That night I met two lovely German girls and an Australian in my hostel, had a few drinks at a bar along Götgatan (which I guided us to without getting lost!) and made plans to hang out in Hamburg where the girls are from. More on that later.

This blog has been too long. Sorry, but Stockholm kicked ass. Go there.




- Matt

Location:Oslo, Sweden